The Rogue's Tale
by Laila Sinclair
Summary: The short tale of Daveth, and his life before Duncan rescued him from the garisson. [I might consider expanding existing chapters and going into more detail, eventually]
1. Chapter 1: Sixteen

The Rogue's Tale

This is the story of Daveth. I liked Ser Jory well enough, but Daveth really was my favorite of the two Warden recruits. These chapters are short snippets of Daveth's life before joining the Wardens.

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Chapter 1

[Sixteen]

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Sixteen. For sixteen miserable winters, he had lived in this sorry blot of a town. Sixteen people – the entire population of said town. Twice-sixteen, the number of livestock and poultry that outnumbered the humans here. Sixteen logs – the amount of wood Daveth had chopped for the fire.

He raised the axe over his head, swinging it down with monotonous movements – almost mechanical in nature. He had done this every day for as long as he could remember – next, he'd go and work the fields for one of the older farmers in town, and earn a handful of bits for his troubles. He was saving up his coin, scrounging any bit that he could. He wanted to leave. He _needed_ to – this town was a leech; it sucked the life out of its inhabitants. That was why his mother had run off with some bloody Antivan merchant when he wasn't yet six winters.

"Boy!" his father shouted from the house. _Sod,_ Daveth thought, gritting his teeth as he put down the axe as his father limped towards him. The man was an old vet – a half-Chasind who served during the Orlesian Occupation. He had taken to drink not long after his wife had gone; he could barely remember Daveth's name on a good day.

Daveth listened in silence as the man rambled on about nothing, threatening to tan his hide if he caught him sneaking out again. The boy nodded, saying 'yes ser' after every few lines, bowing his head obediently. _Tonight,_ he thought, _I'll have fifty silvers. I can make it to Lothering with that, and maybe to Denerim from there._

"Your old man giving you trouble again, lad?" old man Perkins chuckled as Daveth crossed the dirt road, picking up the weeding tools and getting to work on the fields.

"Same old same old," the boy replied, kneeling in the dirt and tugging at the weeds, carefully pulling the roots out, swearing quietly whenever he broke the stems. Perkins sat down on a low bench by his house, stroking the back of his old guard dog, Mardi, who didn't do so much guarding as she did sleeping, nowadays.

"Don't let him talk like that to you, boy," Perkins said suddenly, and Daveth glanced up. The old man leaned forward, propping his knees up on his elbows and chewing on the pipe between his teeth, taking the object out and breathing smoke over Daveth. "Half the time he still thinks he's battling the Orlesians, the way we hear you screaming across town."

Daveth stiffened, and he reflexively reached a hand over his back, looking down quickly as he removed his hand, returning to weeding the garden. Perkins stood slowly, hobbling back into the house, and Mardi raised her old, fluffy head, her fur stuck at odd angles from how she was sleeping. The dog let out a low, half-hearted bark at Daveth – she was half-blind with age – before she recognized him. She settled back down with a low grunt and was snoring before she closed her eyes.

Perkins came back a while later, sitting back down with a long sigh and complaining about his knees. He clicked his tongue and nudged Mardi over, making room for Daveth on the bench as the boy sat, and the two ate lunch in silence. "Pack your things, boy, and leave tonight," old man Perkins mumbled through his sandwich. He took something out of his pocket, and Daveth stared in surprise at the gold sovereign the man offered him.

"Perkins, I can't–" the old man waved a hand dismissively, cutting off Daveth's protests.

"I'm not long for this world, boy," Perkins grunted, "and neither will _you_ be, the way your father treats you," he scoffed. "Your mother was a bright girl." At the mention of his mother, Daveth scowled at the ground. Perkins patted the boy's arm gently as he continued, sensing the anger and resentment in the youth's stiffened shoulders. "She shouldn't have left the way she did, and she shouldn't have left you behind, but she got out of this place, and so should you." Daveth remained silent, but accepted the coin, tucking it into his pocket before returning to his weeding.

He spent the rest of the day hunting in the nearby woods, stepping lightly over marshland and avoiding the deeper parts of the wilderness – he had heard stories of witches that lived deep in the Korcari Wilds. A particularly gruesome tale was that of Flemeth – the Witch of the Wilds who begat the daughters of captured Chasind men, using them until they were spent before feasting on their living hearts. Daveth shuddered at the thought, swearing quietly and making a protective sign with his hands, warding off evil; he could almost feel the eyes of the witches on his back as he moved through the bogs.

oooo

In the dark of night, Daveth woke and packed his things in a small rucksack – a bundle of clothes, some traveling rations, his old bow, and his wallet, with fifty silvers and a single sovereign. He didn't know where old man Perkins had found the coin, or what spirit of compassion had possessed the old man and made him hand it over, and Daveth honestly didn't care – he was getting out of this place.

He looked at his father, the drunk man lying passed out with his head slumped against the dining room table, shaking his head slightly; sire would have been a more apt description – the man was no father to him. The young rogue crept out of the house and locked the door behind him, walking down the dirt path a short way before pausing. He took a long breath, looking out towards the Korcari Wilds – he could cut through the wilderness and marshlands to a town called Lothering. He had been there once or twice to help some of the local farmers load and unload the goods from their carts.

"To Denerim, then," he whispered – as he left the village that he had spent the first sixteen years of his life, he had a broad grin on his face. He never looked back.

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Note:

Here's the first revision - I plan to flesh out the other chapters as well. Hope you like it :)


	2. Chapter 2: Cily Folk

Chapter 2

[City Folk]

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The Wilds were frigid, even in early spring, but Daveth was used to the cold by now. The constant movement of his arms as he swung them wide by his sides kept him warm as he trudged through the marshlands. He hurried through the place as fast as his legs could carry him; he was more wary of witches than Chasind as he traveled – at least from a distance, he might be mistaken for one of the barbarians in plain clothes.

 _Although,_ he thought as he stroked the thin, scraggy growth of hair on his chin, _that might not be so good when I get to more populated areas._ Daveth made a face as the thought came to his head, and he clicked his tongue. _Well, can't turn back now – in for a silver, in for a crown, as mum used to say,_ he chuckled, a wry smile on his face. _If only she'd stuck to her own advice. Maybe I wouldn't be heading for Denerim._

He didn't blame his mother. Not entirely, at least. She had come from a small family of merchants living near Lake Calenhad, a ways north of Kinloch Hold. She had served as a battle-maiden – a field-nurse – during the Orlesian occupation. _And of course, she fell in love with the first sorry oaf she treated,_ the boy thought with a snort, shaking his head.

Daveth stopped by the edge of Lothering, looking up towards the tall ruins that acted as borders for the village. It was much larger than his own hometown, with a busy marketplace – the central location brought trade from the nearby Arlings and Bannorns, and though the place didn't have a permanent population of more than two-hundred souls, the streets were always alive with the cries of merchants and laborers hawking wares and loading and unloading goods and supplies.

Mercenaries eyed the boy with ragged hair and clothes with suspicion as he passed, their eyes lingering on the shortbow on his back. Daveth knew how to handle himself in a fight – he had grappled quite a bit with the boys his age and older, back in the village – but he wasn't sure he could take on a band of mercenaries with armor like theirs.

 _First things first – supplies and some blades,_ he thought, heading to the local blacksmith. He knew the Dwarf as much as anyone in Lothering – Smith was his name. Daveth didn't dare ask if that was really his name – the one time he had almost voice the question, the man had been repairing swords for the local Bann's guards; Daveth liked not having a red-hot blade shoved down his throat.

"Well if it isn't little Davvy Black," Smith greeted in his booming voice. Daveth flinched – the man always spoke like he was trying to be heard over a crowd. He was quite muscular – even for a Dwarf – with red-blonde curls and a rolling beard almost down to his waist, bright green eyes, and a strange tattoo on his left cheek, shaped like a backwards 'S'.

"Hello, Smith," Daveth greeted in turn, leaning lightly against the wall of the smithy. He narrowed his eyes and cringed with each hammer blow as Smith shaped a rod of red-hot steel into a longsword on his anvil.

"It's not market day, is it?" the Dwarf asked, hopping down from the footstool he kept by the forge, lifting the tinted goggles back from his eyes. "I lose track of the time when I'm working." Daveth shook his head, crossing his arms and waiting for Smith to dip the glowing sword into a brine bath, the hissing steam filling the place with hot air. "Have a seat then, boy – I'll be with you in a minute," Smith added, waving a hand absently towards a nearby bench.

Daveth sat and looked at the large cork-board propped up against the wall; it was covered in sketches and designs in curled writing he didn't quite recognize – Dwarvish, he supposed. There were plans for what looked like a crossbow, with a diagram showing a strange cylinder with six slots in it. Daveth wasn't quite sure what to make of this, turning his attention towards Smith as the man clapped his hands, dusting metal filings off his apron and tucking his thick work gloves into a back pocket.

"Now, young ser Blackwood," the Dwarf said, giving a heavy sigh as he sat down on a stool next to Daveth, "what can I do for you today?"

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Daveth stared about with wide eyes as he passed through the gates of Denerim. The place was huge – his entire village could fit inside one of the estates that rose high above the other buildings. The city was messy, he had to admit – it looked like someone had dumped all the houses haphazardly onto a tall hill, with a gigantic, towering fort at the highest point.

Daveth began to feel overwhelmed by the crowd – even the liveliest days in the Lothering market were nothing like this. He was jostled back and forth in the packed streets, people shoved together like pickled fish in a barrel, and the young man barely managed to squeeze through the bodies to a gap between some buildings. He stood in an alleyway, panting for breath as he placed a hand over his trembling heart, feeling the staccato beat under his fingertips.

He chuckled slightly, shaking his head – he had faced rabid wolves and bands of highwaymen on his journey without flinching, but the crowded streets were getting to him so easily. The sea of strange, cold faces was unnerving – while some were bright and cheerful, many people had grim expressions. In Lothering, everyone said good day, or gave a quick nod and a small smile – Daveth thought he was lucky not to get hauled off by the guards for looking Chasind, and was glad that his mother had taught him to read; he could avoid asking for directions and risk getting arrested for 'harassing city officials'.

 _City folk,_ Daveth thought with a snort. _I suppose I shouldn't expect much hospitality,_ he added, taking out his wallet and counting his coins. He had three silvers and a handful of copper bits – he doubted he could afford a decent meal, let alone a night at an inn.

His stomach rumbled at the thought of a meal, and he made a face; he had spent most of his money on supplies in Lothering, and a few other small villages along the West Road. He had bought himself a pair of knives and a bit of old leather armor from Smith, and had had to sell his bow along the way to buy more food from some travelers; Daveth didn't feel safe going hunting alone in the Brecilian – he had heard almost as many stories about the cursed woodlands as he had the Korcari Wilds.

 _So what to do, now that I'm here?_ Daveth mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he looked out towards the mouth of the alley. He was rather tall for his age – the Chasind blood, he thought – and his arms were covered in muscles from working the fields and chopping wood for most of his life; maybe he'd try hiring himself out as a mercenary. _But first,_ he thought, _let's see what kinds of treasures these people's purses hold._

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	3. Chapter 3: Green Eyes

Chapter 3

[Green Eyes]

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Daveth watched the merchant attentively, leaning nonchalantly against the corner of a building and munching an apple, trying to settle his rolling stomach. He had stolen before, back in Lothering on occasion, but never in such a large crowd, and with such high stakes – he had just seen an Elf boy, a little younger than him, steal a piece of bread from a baker's stall; the woman noticed and had started shrieking. The poor boy had been grabbed by the guards – when he tried to resist and squirm away, they had thrown him to the ground and kicked him until he lay still. Daveth swallowed hard – the boy had been starved, and had been beaten to death for trying to survive.

The rogue had seen very few Elves before now; some that he had known were farmers or laborers in Lothering, but most others had been servants – here, they looked more like slaves. Daveth watched as a young noblewoman browsed the market stalls, a small Elf girl with demure posture keeping by her mistress's elbow. A few Elves carried boxes and barrels far too large for them, struggling as they took the loads in pairs, working under the watchful eyes of their employers.

All around the market, Daveth could see them, dotted here and there by shops, interspersed among the shoppers, or lingering by the mouths of alleys. They all had the same hunted, wary look in their eyes – they were treated as outsiders, despite making up at least a third of Denerim's population. Daveth could see the Alienage gates from where he stood – there was a steel portcullis that he assumed would be lowered at night, keeping the Elves from wandering out past curfew.

 _Concentrate,_ he reminded himself as he took another bite of his apple. He shivered as he felt eyes on his back, turning slightly – a little Elf boy was watching him with big, grey eyes, hiding behind a stack of crates. He was painfully thin; all ribs and bones, with a wan complexion and tightly-drawn skin. Daveth knelt as he saw the child eyeing his food, motioning for him to come over. The boy timidly approached, his eyes moving warily about the alley, lingering on Daveth's weapons. The rogue smiled gently, holding out the half-eaten apple. The Elf snatched it from his fingers and pelted down the alleyway, eating so fast that he nearly choked on the fruit. Daveth let out a long sigh as he straightened, returning his focus to the market.

His target was a tall merchant, dealing in Orlesian silks. The man looked well-dressed, and well-fed – he wouldn't lose much if Daveth cut his purse. The rogue walked into the crowd, losing himself in the faces as he absently browsed the stalls, making his way ever closer to his mark. There were plenty of dark-skinned Rivaini and Antivans about the market; one half-Chasind face wouldn't draw undue attention in the crowd. _This will be too easy,_ he thought – the merchant was being chatted up by some perfume seller in the next stall, and Daveth almost smirked as he reached for the purse.

He was concentrating so much on his mark that he didn't notice the Elf until their hands touched, their fingers tangling in the strings of the merchant's wallet. Daveth stared into a pair of big, frightened eyes, the brightest green he had ever seen. A red-haired Elf girl was staring right back at him, her mouth partially opened with surprise.

The two nearly leapt out of their skin as the merchant whirled around, and the perfume seller screamed. _Sod, they'll kill her,_ Daveth thought as he looked back at the Elf – the merchant had grabbed her wrist in a vice grip, and was holding her off the ground with one hand. The rogue kicked the merchant in the back of the knee, making the man stagger and drop the terrified girl. Daveth swore under his breath – the market was too crowded, and he didn't know where they could lose the guards as the armed men barreled through the sea of people, coming at the sound of screaming.

"Come with me," the Elf hissed, grabbing Daveth's wrist and turning on her heel, dragging him through the crowd as they ducked through the bodies. The guards spotted them, but were caught in the tangled knots of shoppers as they struggled to get through. "Can you climb?" the girl asked hurriedly as the pair rushed down an alleyway, and Daveth nodded mutely.

She let go of his hand and ran up a stack of crates, leaping onto the rooftop of a nearby building. _She's like a cat,_ he thought, following behind, though with a bit less grace. The guards had managed to break through the crowd, and were trying to follow them across the rooftops – the crates wobbled under their weight, and only two of the younger guards were agile enough to clamber up.

Daveth chased after his rescuer, keeping close to the Elf as she leapt across narrow gaps between buildings, skidding to a halt and swearing – they had reached a dead-end, and below lay the river, dark and fast as it rushed toward the sea. The guards had caught up to them by now, and surrounded the pair of thieves, drawing their weapons as they saw Daveth's knives. The girl grabbed Daveth's arm as he took a nervous step back, keeping himself between the guards and the Elf.

"We need to jump," she whispered, and he looked at her with astonishment – the river was below them, yes, but Daveth didn't know how deep the water was. And he couldn't swim, either way. "You need to trust me," she added, and Daveth looked into her bright eyes; they had grown calm, and he found that he wasn't afraid anymore.

"Now come along quietly knife-ears," one of the guards said, motioning for the girl to come over.

"Careful, that one looks Chasind," the other warned, and the first one looked at Daveth warily, his eyes darting down to the pair of knives at his belt.

"Ready?" the Elf hissed, and Daveth gave a short nod. She grabbed his hand and whirled around, and the two jumped from the rooftop.

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	4. Chapter 4: Love at First Punch

Chapter 4

[Love at First Punch]

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Adeline swore as her head went under the water again, choking on the tainted river as she struggled to keep her nose above the churning surface. _He could have told me he couldn't swim!_ She thought with a scowl, sucking in a deep breath and floundering with one arm; her clothes and shoes made it hard to swim, and the weight of this stranger kept dragging her under the surface as she forced his head over the water.

 _Flaming sword of Andraste! I'm going to die because of this idiot!_ She thought in a panic, squealing in pain as the rapid flow of the water slammed her back against the leg of a stone bridge, the crust of barnacles on the rocks scraping against her sodden clothes. Adeline held her breath and wrapped her legs around the young man's back, trying to lean back in the water and float; she closed her eyes and felt as if it would work – the water wasn't splashing over their faces anymore.

They had been floating closer to the river's center, where the current was faster, but with a few floundering strokes – Adeline thought her arms would give out any moment now – they came to the sandy strip of the riverbank. They had traveled nearly all the way to the sea; the Elf could taste the salty tang of the ocean on her tongue as it mixed with the dark river water, and spotted gulls wheeling about the sky as the sun traveled towards the distant horizon.

Adeline staggered to her feet as she felt her back hit solid ground, groaning as her muscles quivered in pain. _Why did I even bother with this one? He made me lose my mark!_ She almost groaned out loud as she stared down at the unconscious youth, still halfway in the water. _Slim's not going to like this…and the boss'll kill me for setting the garrison off like that…_

Adeline ran her hands through her hair and swore again. She took a few slow, deep breaths, trying to regain a bit of composure, before bending over and struggling to drag the young man further up the bank. _Maker's breath! He's so heavy!_ She thought with chagrin, gasping and panting for breath as she hooked her hands under his armpits, her feet churning up the sand on the bank as she dragged the man onto dryer ground.

She fell back in the sand next to him, panting and closing her eyes, regaining her breath before sitting up, looking over him. He was a tall, wiry young man, just out of boyhood – he was muscular, but still had the look of a puppy with oversized paws, she thought, and was just beginning to grow a scruffy goatee and sideburns. Adeline placed a hand over his heart, making sure he was still breathing after all this trouble, scowling as she realized he wasn't.

"Sod, sod," she swore under her breath, struggling into a sitting position and placing her hands on his chest, pumping downward and rolling him onto his side, beating at his back and hoping that she was actually helping, and not making it worse. The boy's back shuddered, and he vomited out water across the sand, taking in long, ragged breaths, but remained unconscious as Adeline let him fall onto his back once more.

"Maker's _breath_ …" she groaned with relief, falling back in the sand with a sigh. "You shems will be the death of me."

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Daveth came-to, coughing out a small amount of water and sitting up slowly, running a hand through his damp hair. He began laughing, shaking his head – he hadn't drowned after all, like he thought he would. The Elf girl stood beside him, twisting her hair to drain out the water, looking at him like he had three heads. Daveth chuckled as he settled down his laughter, getting shakily to his feet and patting himself down – luckily, he hadn't lost any of his gear in the river. He'd have to re-oil his blades and armor, but at the moment, he was grateful to be alive.

He looked back at the girl, grinning and holding out a hand in greeting. "Thanks for that. My name's Daveth," he introduced himself. The girl glanced down at his hand, taking a long, slow breath before turning to look at him. Daveth found himself on the ground, his head swimming – she had punched him hard across the face, nearly breaking his jaw.

"What the _sod_ did you think you were doing?" she hissed, her eyes on fire. "That was _my_ mark!" she explained as Daveth stared up at her.

"I didn't see your name on him," Daveth remarked, and she crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at the response.

"Oh ha-ha, very funny," she snorted. "By the Maker, now I'll have to explain to Slim what all that chaos was…" she groaned, running a hand over her forehead.

"Well…" Daveth began, getting to his feet and brushing the sand from his back, "if it's any consolation, I'm sorry." The girl whirled around, raising her finger and opening her mouth to shout again when Daveth smirked. She froze, staring at him with wide eyes – he was twirling the merchant's wallet around his little finger.

"Mmm…" she grumbled, pursing her lips as her cheeks flushed red. Daveth's smirk widened at her embarrassment – this girl was the cutest thing he had ever seen; she was like an agitated kitten, trying to spit and hiss like an old tom.

"So who's Slim?" Daveth asked, and she made another low grumbling sound in her throat, bending over and scrunching up her skirt in her hands, trying to drain out some water from the soaking garment. She let out a long groan, seeing that Daveth wasn't going to leave her alone.

"My…employer," she replied cryptically, and Daveth nodded slightly – he had assumed as much, the way she was panicking. He bounced the wallet in his hand before opening it, finding three sovereigns worth of silvers and bits inside. He closed the coin-purse and tossed it to the girl, who gasped as she was startled, fumbling with the purse and nearly dropping it. "…this is yours," she remarked, trying to give the money back, but Daveth held up his hands.

"You need it more than me," he replied. The girl stared at him in disbelief, her eyes wide around as saucers. She looked down at the money and swallowed hard.

"A-are you sure?" she whispered, and the rogue chuckled, nodding. Her shoulders slumped, and her fingers trembled. "…thank you," she breathed, looking back at him with tears in her eyes. "Thank you…"

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	5. Chapter 5: Meet the Family

Chapter 5

[Meet the Family]

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Adeline. Her name was Adeline Tabris. Daveth walked by the skinny Elf's side as she guided him back to the Alienage. She had invited him to stay the night, when he explained that he had just come to Denerim, and had even offered to bring him to dinner with her family. "Dad's gone with his employer to Highever for a week," she explained once they reached her home. It was a decent-sized house, compared to those around it – the place wasn't falling apart, and looked clean and well taken care of – with one main room with a table and a fire, and two small side rooms to the left and right.

Adeline told him to wait while she changed, heading to the room on the right for a few minutes. Daveth looked up at the hearth, spotting a few small knick-knacks; some broken stones with clear and colored crystals inside, twisted bits of wood and gnarled roots, and a strange bone-white tangle of what looked like an animal's antler. He had never seen something quite like it – the branches curled inward like a delicate basket, and the color at the tips was almost blue.

"Halla horn." Daveth jumped – he hadn't noticed the Elf return; Adeline moved silently when she walked, even over the creaky floorboards in the main room. "Or at least, that's what my mom used to tell me." She brushed past him before Daveth could reply, going into the room to the left; he could hear the sliding and creaking of old drawers, and the shuffling of clothes being moved around just out of sight, accompanied occasionally by small, annoyed clucks of her tongue.

She emerged a few minutes later, tossing him some clothes. "These are my dad's. They might be a bit big, but it's all we have," she said apologetically. Daveth took the clothes gratefully, entering the other room and changing. It was a simple shirt and brown pants, patched in places where the cloth had torn – the knees and elbows – but the clothing was otherwise well cared for, and smelled faintly of flowers; Daveth spotted a few dried flowers on the ground by the drawers, where they had been scattered in Adeline's search.

Once he had finished changing, and Adeline had hung Daveth's clothes to dry by the hearth – she said she'd stoke the fire on their return – the two walked through the Alienage, heading towards the Elder's house, where Adeline said her two cousins, Shianni and Soris, stayed. Daveth couldn't help but notice the wary looks that were shot his way, and Adeline shrugged. "You're a human – they're afraid you're going to cause trouble. Don't take it personally; it's just how things are," she remarked.

The girl stopped by another mid-sized home, knocking on the door. Daveth could see an old, dried wreath of woven branches hanging over the door, and small flower-boxes lined the windows. _Even among such suffering, people can still plant flowers…_ he thought, trying not to smile; despite their demure and servile nature towards others, he could see that the Elves were a hearty people – quiet in their suffering, but still spirited, deep down.

Daveth could hear an excited squeal from inside the house, and a little red-haired Elf girl threw the door open, her brown eyes huge as she looked up at Adeline. "You're safe!" the girl shouted, leaping into Adeline's arms. The older girl chuckled, patting her cousin's back as Shianni hugged her. "We heard there was a commotion in the Market District, and that someone saw you jump off…" Shianni trialed off as she spotted Daveth standing a little ways off.

She squeaked with fear – she had never seen a Chasind before – and ran back into the house, hiding behind Valendrian as he came to the door. "Ah, Adeline, come for supper?" the Elf asked, smiling gently at the girl, and she nodded, glancing back at Daveth.

"I was…um…wondering if an acquaintance of mine could come along," she murmured. "He just came to Denerim, and doesn't have a place to stay," she explained. Valendrian nodded slightly, extending a hand to the teenager.

"Welcome, young man," he greeted. "I am Valendrian, Elder and administrator of this Alienage."

"Daveth Blackwood," Daveth introduced himself, shaking the Elder's hand. The three entered the house, and Adeline pulled Valendrian aside, murmuring something to him as Daveth stood awkwardly in the main room, looking at the two younger Elves – they were watching him like a pair of cornered rabbits watching a wolf.

One of them, the boy, looked around Adeline's age – fourteen, about – with dark red hair and wary, grey-green eyes. _This is Soris,_ Daveth thought, recalling Adeline's descriptions of her cousins – Soris was the quiet, almost surly one, while Shianni was the excited puppy. Soris was standing in front of the younger girl, who was clutching at her skirts and staring at Daveth with big, brown eyes.

"Um…hello," Daveth tried, walking carefully over to the pair. "I'm Daveth."

"…Soris," the boy answered, building up his nerves and extending a hand in greeting. "This is my cousin, Shianni," he added, the girl nodding mutely next to him. They stood about awkwardly, shuffling their feet as the floorboards creaked beneath them. They could hear a faint chattering in the next room – Adeline was explaining to Valendrian what had happened – and in the kitchen, the warm crackling of the fire spilled soft light through the doorway.

"Are you a Chasind?" Shianni piped up, peeking out from behind Soris. Daveth chuckled slightly, shaking his head.

"My Pa was half-Chasind. I guess I _do_ sort of look like a Wilder, don't I?" he replied, getting a small, shy smile from the girl. A warm, savory smell drifted towards Daveth from the kitchen, and Shianni giggled as his stomach rumbled. "Ah…sorry…" he murmured, embarrassed.

"Ah! The stew!" Shianni suddenly remembered, running back to the kitchen to tend the food, nearly tripping over her long apron and skirts in her hurry. Soris looked after her, shaking his head and chuckling slightly.

"Scatterbrain," he murmured affectionately, crossing his arms before looking back up at Daveth.

The two glanced aside as they heard Adeline and Valendrian speaking, their voices rising as they began to argue. "Who sodding _cares_ where the money came from? We can actually afford to _buy_ our houses! We won't get kicked out at the landlord's whim!" Adeline said, and Valendrian scoffed.

"And when they discover where that money was taken from, you'll be arrested – don't think they'll spare you because you're young," Valendrian retorted, and Adeline made a frustrated sound in her throat.

"I _know_ that, Valendrian! The garrison killed little Danni today!" she yelled, and the Elder went quiet. "He stole a loaf of bread. It wasn't even very big. The guards kicked him and kicked him until he stopped screaming," Adeline's voice was deathly soft. "They have no pity for us, Hahren. I know that – we're lower than the dirt under their feet." Daveth glanced at Soris, whose eyes were wide with fear at his cousin's words. "But that merchant won't find me – nearly a third of the Elf population in Denerim has red hair, and he didn't get a good look at my face," she added.

Valendrian remained silent for a long time, letting out a long sigh. "That it has come to this…" he murmured. "Children stealing to keep their families fed." His eyes were sad as he looked at the girl, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Please be careful, Adeline. You're the only one left in your father's life. If anything happened to you…" Adeline nodded slightly, her eyes dark.

"I know," she whispered.

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	6. Chapter 6: Three Years

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[Three Years]

It was nearly three years to the day that Daveth had arrived in Denerim. Tabby had set him up with Slim Couldry, who had pointed him in the direction of a small-time crime group needing to hire skilled muscle. Adeline was a jack-of-all-trades, he learned – she was a skilled acrobat, had a golden-touch for safe-cracking, and could steal the sword from a guard's hand without him realizing it. The two often worked as a team, one causing a distraction or keeping lookout while the other worked.

It was on one such night that things had gone horribly wrong, and Adeline and Daveth had barely escaped Bann Franderel's estate. The thing had been a big setup – the two had been attacked by archers and apostate mages as soon as they reached the treasury. They had run for their lives, counting their blessings when they got out unscathed.

"Sodding mother of Andraste!" Adeline ground through her teeth, yanking off her cowl and kicking the wall viciously, cringing and swearing louder as she jammed her foot. The two were hiding in an alleyway, catching their breath and waiting for the coast to clear.

"Calm down Tabby," Daveth urged as he took off his own cowl, tucking it into his belt. Adeline's hair was puffed up from how forcefully she had pulled off her hood, and Daveth tried not to laugh at how it stuck out like the fur of an angry cat.

" _I am calm!_ " she hissed as she whirled around, her fists balled up at her sides and her eyes nearly glowing with fury. Daveth gently took her hands, cracking her fingers out of fists so she wouldn't leave marks in her palms, and she let out a long sigh, groaning as she leaned back against the wall. She ran a hand over her forehead and through her hair, looking out towards the main street; the search for them had settled down, and it would soon be safe to head home.

"I think you and I need to pay Slim a visit tomorrow," Daveth remarked, and Adeline chuckled.

"Right," she replied. "I doubt he'd do this to us, though – he'd be losing some of his best customers," she added.

"Mmm…" Daveth agreed, pursing his lips. "I'm thinking maybe one of the higher-ups gave our favorite fence false information," he theorized. "You've been getting rather mouthy lately," he added, and Adeline rolled her eyes.

"Rodrick was getting handsy again. And I _did_ give him fair warning," Adeline replied, and Daveth chuckled.

"Maybe he just thinks you need a man in your life, Tabby," he teased, and she snorted.

"Hah, more shackles," the girl muttered cynically.

"You don't really think that, do you?" Daveth asked, leaning over her as he rested a hand on the wall. Adeline rolled her eyes as she looked up at the man – she only ever let Daveth get this close to her; the other men she worked with would risk getting a finger cut off.

"Daveth, the day I find a man who can tolerate me, it'll rain gold sovereigns from the sky," she snorted, and Daveth smirked.

"Too bad your weather-sense is terrible, then," he grinned, leaning forward and kissing her. Adeline started, reaching up to grab his face and push him off, but Daveth kept a tight grip on her hands, knowing he would get his eyes scratched out if he let her go. He kissed her hard and fast before she could start kneeing him in the groin, and he pulled back as he felt her stomping on his foot.

She was staring up at him with huge eyes, panting for breath as she shook, leaning back against the wall. Daveth grinned at her startled expression, and she scowled, slapping him hard across the face. Daveth felt his nose crack, and the warmth of blood in his mouth as he toppled over, blacking out as he hit the ground.

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He came-to a while later, finding Adeline sitting over him with a worried look on her face. She let out a sigh of relief as the rogue opened his eyes, placing a hand over her heart and looking to the sky, murmuring a silent prayer of thanks. "I'm not _that_ bad of a kisser, am I?" Daveth teased, and she scowled down at him.

"What the _sod_ did you think you were doing?" she hissed, and the man grinned, slowly sitting up and touching his nose. "Ah! Don't! It's…" she trailed off, and Daveth stopped with his hand half-way to his nose. "I…broke your nose," she murmured guiltily. The man chuckled at her awkward apology, patting her hand gently as she rested it on her lap.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," Daveth said, and Adeline stared at him. "You've never kissed anyone before, have you?" he asked, and she blushed scarlet, looking down.

" _Now_ I have," she muttered. Her fingers tightened as she gripped them on her legs, her eyes reddening. Daveth swore under his breath – he really hadn't thought that through. He gently placed a hand on her cheek, and Adeline shut her eyes, but didn't flinch away.

"Shh…I'm sorry," he whispered, carefully wiping at her tears. "You're such an idiot," he groaned to himself, smacking his forehead. "This is the way you treat the girl you love?"

"Daveth…" Adeline murmured, blinking as she wiped at her cheeks, "I…" she looked down.

"Hey, don't cry Tabby," he continued softly, and she glanced back at him.

"No, I…" she took a long breath. "You just said…you loved me?" she asked, and Daveth blinked a few times in surprise.

" _Ah!_ " he exclaimed, startling her. " _I said it out loud!_ " Adeline giggled weakly at his outburst as he slapped his hands against either side of his face, staring at the ground. "Maker's breath, I'm sorry," he added, and Adeline shook her head.

"No that's…kind of cute, actually," she admitted, her tears gone. She frowned slightly, though, twining her fingers together. "But I…don't feel the same way."

Daveth let out a long sigh, nodding a bit. "Somehow I expected that," he admitted. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Is it…because I'm human?" he asked softly, and Adeline shook her head slowly, taking his hands.

"No," she replied. "I…I _do_ love you, but…like family," she clarified. Daveth was surprised – he hadn't expected that at all. Adeline slowly got to her feet, dusting herself off and helping Daveth up, indicating his nose. "We'll have to get you to a healer," she remarked, and he nodded slightly.

"Right," he sighed. He looked at Adeline as she lightly hugged herself, her eyes on the ground. "Tabby," he murmured, and she glanced up. "Let me kiss you again." She stared at him incredulously, and he held up a hand. "I can't let _that_ be your first experience," he argued. Adeline looked uncertain for a few moments before letting out a long sigh.

"Only if you promise never to do it again," she replied, and Daveth smiled gently at the anxious girl – she was suddenly very bashful, and blushing all the way to the tips of her ears.

"Alright," he said. He motioned with a finger for her to come closer, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, placing a hand on the small of her back, and bringing the other up to the back of her neck. "I'll be gentle," he promised, and Adeline looked down.

She closed her eyes as she felt his lips against hers, and she let out a small sigh – Daveth was very gentle with her now, caressing her with his lips as he cradled the back of her head. He slowly parted her lips with his, and she stiffened for a moment as she felt his tongue in her mouth, heat crawling up her throat as his grip tightened on her. She started kissing back, moving her hands up his chest and to his thick, curly black hair. She let out a soft moan as their tongues wrestled, and Daveth pushed her against the wall, his heart pumping against hers as they gasped for breath.

Adeline stared up at Daveth as he drew away, a smug grin on his face at the sudden look of longing in her eyes. "I'm a bit jealous," Daveth chuckled softly, pressing his forehead against hers, "whoever wins your heart will never let you go." He patted her cheek gently as he let her up, and the girl cleared her throat awkwardly, placing a hand over her fluttering heart; there was a strange feeling in her chest - a tight knot that coiled around her heart - and she wasn't sure what it was.

"Umm…thanks, Davvy," Adeline murmured, and the man chuckled.

"Anything for you, Tabby dear."

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~someone's not being honest with her feeeliiings~


	7. Chapter 7: In for a Silver

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[In for a Silver]

Daveth crossed his arms, leaning against the side of a building and stroking his chin as he sized up his mark. He chuckled at the feeling of déjà vu, shaking his head slightly. The man he was after was a dark-haired Rivaini; a mercenary, Daveth thought, looking at the man's ornate armor and weapons. _Too risky to try and snatch one of his blades,_ he thought, pursing his lips. _Tabby might be able to, though…_ he mused, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

Daveth began walking, losing himself in the crowded market as he crept closer to his target. He stood right behind the man and cut the strings of his coin-purse, turning to slip away before anyone noticed. A bolt of fear jarred through Daveth, and he slowly turned his head – the man had grabbed his wrist, and was holding him in a vice-grip.

"Thief!" a woman screamed nearby, and the man gripping Daveth's hand started slightly. Daveth swore and managed to squirm out, nearly wrenching his shoulder from the socket, the way he was flailing about. He bolted through the market and down an alleyway, nearly yelping with surprise – the old bugger was faster than he looked, and was catching up fast.

"Sod it," Daveth muttered, leaping up a stack of barrels and getting onto the rooftops, swearing again as the man continued to chase him. "Of course I pick the one man who can climb the sodding _rooftops!_ " he growled, leaping across a gap between buildings and yelping – his foot slid on a loose shingle and he skidded down the side of the roof, falling into an alleyway below and landing on a pair of guards taking a smoke-break.

"Hold it!" one of them grabbed him, pinning his arms down as he held Daveth to the ground.

"Hey! That's the guy the captain was telling us about – he said this man's gotten away from him for nearly six years, now," the other one said. "The ol' Cap'll want him strung up before noon," he added, and Daveth bucked violently, trying to get away.

"Right, sorry about that," the first guard said, talking to Daveth.

"If you were sorry you'd let me go you sodding son of a–" Daveth trailed off as he spotted the old man he had tried to rob – he had dropped down from the rooftops and was walking towards the guards.

"Excuse me, but I would ask you to release that man," the Rivaini man said, and the guards looked up at him oddly, shaking their heads.

"Sorry, can't do that Ser," the guard sitting on Daveth apologized. "This one's a wanted man – he's going to the gallows." Daveth struggled again, gritting his teeth and bucking, but the guard was too heavy to throw off in his full armor.

"What is his name?" the man asked, and the other guard snorted.

"Sod if I now," he retorted, crossing his arms. "He's a dead man, either way."

"Daveth," Daveth spoke, looking up at the man. "My name is Daveth." The older man smiled slightly, nodding and kneeling next to Daveth.

"Daveth, my name is Duncan," the man introduced himself. "That you were able to cut my purse nearly undetected shows great finesse." Daveth wondered why Duncan was complimenting a dead man, and the man who had stolen form him, no less. "There is a horde of darkspawn forming in the south," he continued, and Daveth and the guards balked. "I would like to offer you a chance for freedom – a place with the Grey Wardens."

Daveth stared at Duncan with an open mouth, not sure what to say. _A Grey Warden! Of all the people in all of Denerim, I cut the purse of a sodding_ _ **Grey Warden!?**_ Before Daveth could speak – because sod _yes_ he was accepting, if it meant not getting strung up – the guard sitting on him cleared his throat, shaking his head.

"Excuse me, Ser Duncan, but this man is wanted for innumerable offenses," he argued, and Daveth snorted.

"I'm a _thief_ not a _murderer_ ," he scoffed, and the guard scowled at him.

"Regardless, I find myself in need of recruits – this young man has skills that would benefit the Grey Wardens' ranks," Duncan replied. When the guards looked at one another, and he sensed that they were going to be difficult, he let out a sigh. "Then I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription – Daveth is now in the custody of the Grey Wardens," Duncan said, and the guards stared at him.

"B-but what will we tell the captain?" one of them asked. Duncan helped Daveth to his feet, making sure the man was unhurt from his fall earlier.

"Tell him that this man is under the direct protection of the Warden-Commander of Ferelden," Duncan replied, and Daveth stared at him in awe. _Warden-Commander!? Maker's breath, I should count my lucky stars that I was spared,_ Daveth thought. He jumped as Duncan glanced back at him, a small smile on the man's face. "Come along, now – I would like to leave Denerim immediately," he urged, and Daveth followed quickly behind the man as he left the alley. Unable to resist it, Daveth turned back to the pair of incredulous guards and gave them the finger, smirking as he ran after Duncan.

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And so ends Daveth's tale, which picks up in Ostagar. I hope you liked it :)


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